


tattooed tears (what we lost)

by parkitcharlie



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: do you ever just write something and think 'wow that was rude'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:28:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3527660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkitcharlie/pseuds/parkitcharlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa after leaving Clarke on Mount Weather</p>
            </blockquote>





	tattooed tears (what we lost)

**Author's Note:**

> This is obviously inspired by the tumblr post from heyasscroft. Which was rude, by the way.

The Commander is discussing the aftermath of Mount Weather but Lexa would rather think about anything else. Yet they are one in the same. The Commander. Lexa. Heda. Heda. _Heda_. This is what she was born for. This is what she will die doing. Heda is her life. So she stands straight-back tall and ignores the oily taste on her tongue as she delivers **good** news. The Commander does not think about Clarke. The Commander does not think about Clarke’s hand under her own. The Commander does not think about Clarke’s eyes as she told her _May we meet again_. The Commander does not. She. Does. Not.

But Lexa’s eyes cannot fall on a spot where she doesn’t see Clarke. Clarke standing defiant and strong. Clarke wringing her hands. Clarke running her hand through her hair. Clarke checking her gun. Clarke—

The Commander wouldn’t be thinking about such things in the wake of a victory. So Lexa cannot. Will not. (They are one in the same. The Commander. Lexa. Heda. Lexa. Lexa. _Lexa._ )

“Our people are home. Now we can rest.” A victory like this demands celebration. The chieftains around her call out— _A feast! A hunt! Our people are home! Welcome them home! Welcome them_ —“Tomorrow,” If they are surprised by the coarseness of her tone, they dare not show it. “We will feast to welcome our people home. But tonight, we let them rest. We will all sleep well knowing our battle has been won.”

 _Victory_ , Lexa thinks, her hand opening and closing on the hilt of her sword. The words don’t feel right in her mouth and she concludes she must not be the one saying them. _The Commander said it. Heda. Heda._

“Heda?” Her eyes flick toward Indra. She means the gesture to be casual but it plays off like a wince. The other chieftains pretend not to notice. Lexa’s fingers wrap around the cool metal and squeeze—once…twice…release.

“Out” They hesitate, so she closes her eyes and tries again, “The battle is done.” She adds “We won.” Lexa is vaguely aware that she is repeating herself but she cannot bring herself to care.

She knows The Commander would care and this bothers her even more.

Indra is the first to go and the rest soon follow. Lexa waits for what feels like an eternity with her back to the entrance. The tent flap closes with a dull sound. She sucks in a long, shaking breath. Outside the tent she hears footsteps followed by silence and then Lexa explodes.

Lexa explodes like a gunshot, all gunpowder and blood. Lexa explodes like a missile, heart pounding and ears ringing. Lexa explodes like a bomb, shrapnel tearing through her body.

Lexa explodes like, well, like heartache.

An animal cry tears itself from her throat as her fists pound onto the table. Her hands find their way to her sword hilt again and she is swinging blinding at every place Clarke touched. The table with the mountain is knocked over and Lexa drops the sword to jump on it. She beats it until her hands bleed, until her anger gives out, until it is destroyed like she promised Clarke it would be.

She lets her cries die off in her chest as she lays on the remains of Mount Weather. Lexa is The Commander. It was for her people. It was about _survival_. Her heart lurches.

She thought she deserved more than that.

**Author's Note:**

> You should know that you don't kick if you don't have to  
> All’s fair in love and war, I know, don't get me wrong  
> But if you listen to your heart it may mislead you  
> Lord I should know, I’ve felt lost for so long  
> -"Tattooed Tears" The Front Bottoms


End file.
